On red bags, private words, and knowing when something is ready.
I want you to notice Lolita across a room. I also want you to forget about her weight halfway through dinner.
That second part has become much more important to me since arriving in Milan.
When I first imagined this bag, I thought about color. Cherry Red on one side. Latte on the other. The pleasure of changing your mind without having to change your bag.
Red with a white shirt and the sleeves pushed up. Latte against black. Or red against black, because some evenings subtlety feels like a missed opportunity.
I could picture her before I knew how to make her.
Then came the samples, the leather, the hardware. The decisions that look small until you hold them in your hand.
A beautiful object asks very practical questions.
How does it feel to carry? Can you find what you need easily? Is the handle comfortable, even when you’ve been out all day?
I’ve spent nearly two years developing Lolita. Long enough to become attached to certain decisions. Long enough that changing them can feel a little personal.
Now I’m in Milan, working on Lolita with Diana Yanes and her team at DYC. Having people with years of product development experience look at the bag with me is making me reconsider details I thought I’d already settled.
I’m exploring lighter leather. Looking closely at what gives the bag its structure, and what adds weight without earning its place.
I still want that sculptural shape. I still want the color to make you look twice. But I want to think about the woman carrying it after the photograph has been taken.
She has somewhere else to be.
Then there’s the part I want only you to see.
Lolita is named after my mother. And my idea is to sew a quote inside each bag.
I write poetry, so perhaps wanting to put words into a handbag was inevitable. I like imagining you reaching for something ordinary and finding a sentence that stays with you. Reading it again months later, on a day when it means something different.
You could show it to someone. You could keep it to yourself.
So much of getting dressed is visible. I want to leave a little room for something private.
The words aren’t sewn in yet. I’m still working out how they’ll become part of Lolita. But I’ve known for a long time that I want them there.
I’m changing too.
I came to Milan with one sample and a very clear picture of what I wanted this brand to become.
I’m still carrying both.
But being here has made me more willing to question the details. To admit that something I loved in the first sample might need another look. To listen to people whose experience goes far beyond mine, then decide what belongs in my own design.
That is harder than having a good idea. It is also the part I’m enjoying more than I expected.
There’s a particular kind of confidence I admire in a woman: she knows what she likes, but she can change her mind without making an apology out of it.
I’d like to bring some of that to the way I build YOU’RE ALL THAT.
I’m working towards a February 2027 launch in Milan. Before then, there are decisions to make and things to get right.
I want the moment you first pick up Lolita to feel as considered as the moment you first see her.
And I want you to have trouble choosing which color to wear out.
With love,
Alija
If you want to get to know me better, you can also read my substack